


The Kanima's spurt

by CharlRhodes



Series: The Corruption of the Pack [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Fat Character, Food Kink, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, Pack Dynamics, Self-Acceptance, Self-Indulgent, Spells & Enchantments, Weight Gain, fat jackson, obesity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlRhodes/pseuds/CharlRhodes
Summary: As the kanima's master was hit by the spell, the animal feels the effects.
Series: The Corruption of the Pack [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619716
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	The Kanima's spurt

"I'll have the pancake special," Jackson spat out urgently his order, his voice poised with hunger. "Oh, add whipped cream. And two large sodas," he ordered the young waitress who was taken aback by the order the model-like man in front of her demanded but dutifully responded. "Yes, sure," The sales lady said, "I'll be back in a couple minutes." Most of the time, Jackson would have enjoyed the attention the girl had given him. He was aware of his look; his broad shoulders, his globular pecs, his bowling balls biceps, his round bubble butt and fit thighs packed into ungodly skinny jeans. But, right now, Jackson's stomach was still growling, urging him to eat soon. "I don't think I can wait that long," he whined to himself, still surprised by this unusual hunger that he had developed those past few days. He had been tempted to call Derek, or even Stilinski, about it. After all, when he had been delivered from Gerard' Psycho' Argent grasp, Derek had been his new master. Not that the older werewolf would control Jackson.

After ten long minutes, the girl was back with his order and Jackson did not even wait for her to live to start digging into the food. "Mmmm, these are great!" He praised with his mouth full, the pancakes gulped down in less than fifteen minutes and packed in his belly. Still, his abdomen, a bit rounded out with his treat, was nothing short of being over-stuffed, something that, beyond Jackson's usual sense of physical perfection, unsatisfied him. 

It was a fantastic feeling for him when, despite the large order he consumed, his stomach began to rumble again, demanding more food. He was imperceptibly ashamed to be so hungry in public but still flagged down the waitress.

"I want a second one." He demanded, his belly giving a noise of confirmation. "Double it, and add bacon."

Soon after, the waitress placed four full plates, two of pancakes smothered in syrup and whipped cream and two the bacon glistening with fat as well as a super-sized glass of soda, in front of Jackson.

Again, she was surprised by the god-like boy's show of gluttony. She was no stranger to serve a large amount of food to people, but unlike him, they were on the stockier side. One more time, the beautiful man wasted no time in digging in, not noticing how his fitted clothes were protesting and how every bite and slurp of soda helped his stomach to conquer more space. 

When all the food was gone, and his soda was drained, he sighted happily, reaching down to pat his stomach. He looked down in shock when his hands hit the mass. His diamond-cut abs were now bowed out in basketball shape as if someone had pumped him up with air. His stretched skin was sore to the touch, but he was thrilled when he felt his greasy hands massaging it and popping his jeans' button to give it more space. While it was embarrassing and not at all Jackson Whittemore, it felt so good to be that full.

* * *

If he had to be truly honest, seeing the number on the scale only half-shocked Jackson. Still, he quickly stepped off the scale as if it had been on fire.

He did wonder how it happened. He perfectly knew. That strange demanding and comforting hunger he had felt those past weeks were the reason. Every meal had been a feast where he would eat until he could not even breath or move. The thing was how it happened so quickly. A few weeks ago he had been the embodiment of the Abercrombie&Fitch, with muscles bulgings and six-pack abs. Now with slipping into an exciting food frenzy, he had turned into a Blublercrombie kid. While he was okay with his new acquired softness, Jackson was pretty sure no one should gain this much weight so quickly. 

When he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he had expected to be revulsed to see him so out of shape, how much his body had softened, was enlarged and that new belly which was spilling over the waistband of his cannot-be-buttoned anymore. He used to run forty miles a week... and now he was the kind of guy who ate a whole cake in one sitting, who got out of breath walking to the fridge.

Yet, Jackson, who despited being that way, had a wild mix of emotions within him. It was not so bad. 250 pounds was too big, but he could rectify that with intense workouts and controlling his ravenous appetite. As those rational thoughts and resolutions eased his mind, he felt something extremely familiar running through his whole inflated body. 

Hunger.

Such a lustful hunger he started to tremble, anticipating the blissful happiness that gorging procured him. 

Ignoring the voice of reason telling him how he just had breakfast an hour prior, he grabbed an ill-fitting shirt and his keys, not bothering to change from his too-small pants. Afterall, it would take to much time to take them off and to fit his larger thighs on another one. He had to eat now. He was starving.

A million thoughts about what to eat surged in his head. Cheesecakes, burgers, tacos, pizzas... Yes, pizzas, massive, greasy and gut-filling pizzas. Who needs abs anyways?

* * *

"An extra-extra-large meat lovers with a cheese crust, extra bacon and mozzarella, now." He ordered the poor nerdy waiter, who was flabbergasted by an order that could feed a family of four and by the look of the overweight man, his shirt half-buttoned displaying his flabby pectoral and parts of his round saggy belly. Not to talk about his unfastened jeans. He just nodded at the hurried man, not knowing what to say. 

While waiting, Jackso mindlessly shovelled the complimentary breadsticks, filling his overdemanding stomach, hopelessly hoping to ease the hunger. Knowing perfectly, it would not do what he had expected after the second basket, he grabbed a third one on the nearby table, shoving more carbs in his greedy mouth. 

Jackson's nose picked the scent before the scrawny waiter deigned to bring his pizza. The human was so slow that Jackson almost jumped out of the seat to take it. But, as he was in a public place and had undoubtedly already made a fool of himself just by his appearance, he gathered all the remaining patience he could find. The waiter did not even have the time to put the monstrous meat-lover pizzas on the table that Jackson was already going for his first slice, burning his fingers, quickly healed by his powers. 

"You might wanna wait a minute or two. It just came right out of the oven." The waiter said.

Rolling his eyes at the unwelcomed remark, he gobbled down his heated slice in less than three bites, before voraciously moving to a new one. 

"Mmmphh soo good." He mumbled with the sixth slice jammed into his mouth even if despite the unhealthy amount of fat and cards he had indulged, the bliss of gorging on that, the hunger was still deep in his stomach, begging him for more. 

While he was feasting on his pie, he did not notice the waiter had watched him, half awed and disturbed by the show Jackson had offered him. But, maybe because he had some experience, he quickly picked up the blond chub was not ready to leave the establishment. 

"Another Pizza?" He asked the man, breaking the self-awed Jackson was in. He took the grunt or growl (?) he received in response for a 'Yeah. The same one I just had, please.'

Not wanting to suffer any tantrum the hungry man could throw, the second overfilled pizza came to Jackso not too long after. Despite having just wolfed down one pizza, Jackson's pace was unaffected, if not quicker as double-fisting greasy slices into his mouth seemed to be a more practical idea. 

When he finished his effort, he leant back on his seat, his breath laboured and face flustered while he spread his wide thighs to accommodate the sheer mass of blubber on his torso pushing up and out of his shirt.

Finally, content, even if the hunger was not wholly gone, he let himself shift to sleep, imagining his belly swelling, even more, riding his shirt before popping the recalcitrant buttons and destroying the cloth to expose his larger and rounder gut. He pictured the increased pressure of his jeans against his inflated thighs, the seams of the shirt constricting his growing arms. He dreamt of the waves of blubber accumulating on his frame, burying the tiny man he was. The thought made him fuzzy and warm, happy of this projection. It felt good.

It was not a new feeling for Jackson. Every time he gorged himself, he felt so content, so peaceful. Each time it was more intense and addicting. Soon that uncontrollable hunger stopped completely disappearing, no matter how much he ate. While gorging to the point of being comatose, he perfectly knew an hour later; he would be hungry again. But to be honest, Jackson was now at a point where the hunger was just a mere reminder. He had spent months now indulging on whatever food he would that it was a reflex to find something to eat at any moment of the day. But he was less ashamed than he used to be. 

* * *

The first times, he made sure to respect some decorum in public, now he did not care. He never hesitated to waddle in a restaurant with poor clothing choices; split pants, buttonless shirts, tee-shirts looking like crop tops. He was feeling good stop being so perfect. All those efforts and expectations were a thing of the past. Now, he was just giving in to food and happiness. If it wanted pasta, he would eat his weight in pasta. If like he craved sweets, he would pump his stomach full of candies.

He was living his best life; a hermit gorging on food. His only social interactions were delivery services and waiters at restaurants. He had ghosted everybody around him, even his adoptive parents, who kept calling him, to Jackson's irritation because that meant lost time where he could not pack his belly fuller. The two Whittemore most of the times insisted on seeing their son, asking him how he was doing or demanding explanations for his food bills. Mouth full of food, he always sent them packing. They would not understand. They were full of prejudices, full of expectations and uptights. They definitely would not approve their super-sized 350 pounder son, packed in pants he could not pass above his sizeable bottom and whom tee-shirt only covered his round moons. 

* * *

Jackson woke up after another daily food coma when he heard his belly rumbled. He was on his sofa, Netflix still on, asking him if he was still watching. His lard-filled arms brushed many piles of empty snacks wrappers and pizza boxes. And as the days of his gluttonous abandon stretched into months, he was on the fast track to becoming a total blob of a man. 

"Ugh. It's time." He groaned while his meaty paws rubbed his eyes, when he saw a still untouched box of Twinkies on the end of the coffee table, between abandoned doughnuts wraps. 

Hunger giving him an energy boost, he grabbed the box and started to cram the candy bars into his mouth.

"Mmmmm. So good." He moaned while chewing, relieved not to have to move to find food, before unwrapping another set of Twinkies and swallowing them. As he soon ran out of candies, he managed to finish a remaining litre of Coke before dropping it with the other five empty bottles from earlier. 

Still unsatisfied by this unconventionally light snack, he resolved to move to his kitchen, hauling his body up for the first time in more than twelve hours, feeling his engorged body jiggling in the laborious process. 

He did not need his enhanced senses to hear the parquet floor squeaking under his steps, and, even if he was living alone, he adored how his presence was announced by the noise and would impatiently wait the day the furniture would vibrate because of his size. 

He soon reached the new addition to his high-tech kitchen, a brand new massive double door fridge, which was full enough for Jackson to last for the rest of the day. He grabbed a new bottle of Doctor Pepper, plopped down on a kitchen stool, his mighty buttock overflowing the seat and started chugging the sugary liquid. 

As soon as he tossed aside the empty bottle, Jackson whimpered, feeling his stomach growl for sustenance, despite already being filled with enough burgers, pizzas and Twinkies for a whole family of people.

Dutifully obeying his urge, Jackson grabbed two whole Oreo cheesecakes in the fridge and hauled himself to the living room. 

On his way, he stopped in front of a full mirror he used to admire his physique, especially since he had begun to improve his body fat. 

He was amazed to see he was now unrecognisable, his former diamond-cut face was now fat pink cheeks and a thick full double chin. 

He was once a man with a single-digit body fat percentage. All trained, powerful and bulging muscles. He was now genuinely obese 

and still going for more. Every inch of Jackson was padded with lard. Is kanima powers certainly made him keep his muscle mass, but his round biceps and broad pecs were now buried with flab, giving water balloon-sized man-boobs, and thick jiggly arms. His formerly emaciated legs were now the size of his former waist, if not more as the two stacks of fat were chuffing against each others distorting his once runaway-like pace. But, of course, Jackson's greatest achievement was his belly. Not that it happened a lot nowadays, but when his furry beast was empty, it was jiggly and swaying around independently with his two sizeable sisters perched on his hips. 

But when he was stuffed, it was simply massive and unbelievably bloated it almost hurt to touch it. The golden jiggly flesh turned taunt and round. Stood up, it was normally dropping mid-thighs, it was as if it had been inflated with air, ha it rose in front of him, standing a good three feet and a half. He just loved looking like this, a snack away from popping. 

He parked his monstrous bulk on his stained white designer couch when he heard a clear, loud thud informing him his butt had cost him a $10,000 couch. 

Not bothering about the ruined furniture, he slammed two handfuls of cheesecake and forced it into his mouth, before shoving more while the first ones were still in his mouth. When he finished the two pies, he realised he should have recorded the scene because he pas absolutely assured he had broken some world record or something. Leaning on the broken couch, he gave a room-shaking belch, to free some space for more food, when he felt his tee-shirt seams pulling apart and his beaten tiny XXL Calvin Klein brief split, freeing his massive rear. 

Jackson Whittemore had the time of his life. 

* * *

Jackson let his king-sized, rippling body unleashed a monstrous belch as he started to feel a heavy sensation deep in his ocean-sized belly when he finished his gallon of Serious Mass chocolate shake. He felt lethargic at the feeling of all the empty calories he had gobbled down, soon, turning into more adipose. 

The belch was soon followed by other ones, smaller but still impressive, causing his mass to undulate, the movement making the ruined couched creak more under his enormous rear. 

Once he stopped feeling gassy with the shake, he let himself go back to sleep before dinner but was shot awake at the sound of a massive belch. Groaning, he looked at the absolute whale in the room responsible for the noise. He had to double-take to realise who the massive intruder whose frame was filling the doorway was. 

It was a super-sized, engorged Isaac Lahey. Jackson had not seen him in years, and that curly-haired man was humungous in an ill-fitted shirt that displayed Jackson his vast bloated belly. He scooped up a giant chocolate doughnut and shoved it into his mouth before dropping an empty box onto the floor, joining the various number of empty food cartons Jackson had consumed, then he lumbered to the centre of the room, the floor groaning deeply, puffing out a belly way bigger than Jackson's. 

"Hey Whittemore." he said cunningly, with a shit-eating grin on his chubby face, picking Jackson's jealousy rolling in waves, "looks like you put on a little weight," rubbing is ample belly against Jackson's.


End file.
